A Game of Masquerades
by TheUltimateGambit91
Summary: Re-Write of an old story. ROMY No face was recognizable under these sheaths of white, gold, pink, black and shades of blues. Thus, an air of mystery and intrigue engulfed the atmosphere of the mansion as anybody who was anybody was rid of their identities for this one night alone. Well, almost everybody. Set in New Orleans 1870's AU.
1. Make Haste! The Celebration Awaits

_**August 2012: Having re-visited this story after a few recent reviews of this dusty old gem I had shelved for so long, I have decided to edit and continue though with a few changes. Readers who have waited, Readers who have just stumbled upon this story I hope you enjoy the new revision! **_

_**And I apologise in advance for any possible hold-ups in updates and grammatical errors. I'll do my best! **_

**Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men, they are Marvel Property. **

_**Chapter 1 - Make Haste! The Celebration Awaits**_

**A Game of Masquerades **

The night was young and colours of dusk had not quite left the canvas of the sky. Already, the lights of the city of New Orleans were bright and numerous. The city was already alive with merriment but it was merely the crescendo before the grand climax.

The famed French Quarter was alive and brightly lit in multicolour lanterns and lamps this evening. The wondrous aromas of spices and fine wine intoxicated the warm air while the wealthy and beautiful creatures of the night arose from their sunlit slumber to dance and drink the night away. Summer was like an aphrodisiac to the Quarter, setting its senses aflame making its people jovial and eager for festivity. And in one of the many grand mansions of this wonderful city, a birthday celebration had commenced. Carriages mounted by groups of fours, sixes and the odd two, were beckoned into the grand gate entrance of the LeBeau Mansion by the smartly dressed servants. Ladies of high society of every shape and form were escorted by men of equal rank and shape, dressed in all their trimmed and threaded finery. And as requested on their hand-held invitations, the invitees came dressed not only in their finest gowns and coats but with their faces hidden behind beautifully crafted masks. No face was recognisable under these sheaths of white, gold, pink, black and shades of blues. Thus, an air of mystery and intrigue engulfed the atmosphere of the mansion as anybody who was anybody was rid of their identities for this one night alone.

Well, _almost_ everybody.

Graydon D'ancanto let out a sigh of irritation as his gaze turned away from the clock on the mantel for the hundredth time. It was not a minute to six o'clock. He fumed silently. _The invitation had said six o'clock arrival. _The young gentleman's brow furrowed as he turned his topaz-coloured gaze back to the clock not thirty seconds later. _Now_ it was six o'clock. An irritated growl escaped his lips as he rested his arm on the white marble mantelpiece and scowled up at the grand stairwell.

Now, Graydon was not an unreasonable man, on the contrary he was quite the opposite of this grunting, irritable young man on a regular day. But the restraints of proper behaviour that social conduct held over him were straining under the tardiness of his family. He began to pace as the clock struck three minutes past six. He was about to grumble irritably at the clock again only to stop at the sound of rushed multiple pairs of footsteps that caught his ears.

Graydon turned towards the stairway just in time to see four figures hurry noisily down the steps. The first to make the end of the stairs was his younger brother, Olivier D'ancanto. He brushed off an invisible bit of dust from his sleave before he straightened and sent his _version_ of an apologetic grin in his brother's direction. Graydon simply rolled his eyes but his expression turned less sour as his attention was shifted to the three remaining figures. With the fourth figure being his Aunt's maid, Mary, taking up the end of the three, two women dressed in lavish gowns of emerald green and pale-rose-pink. Mary was still adjusting the elder lady of the two's hair as they came down the stairs like a Mardi Grass parade. By the time they ascended the floor, the elder Lady had grown tried of Mary's fussing and snapped irritably.

"Mary! Child, y' have done enough with mah hair! Lord knows, it's seen better days but don't fuss over it! I'm an old woman! I should be fit to _look _my age. B'sides, ya'll should beh tending t' Miss Spencer here–Not that y' need anything more, dearest. _You_ look wonderful."

Miss Keira Spencer gave a good-humoured chuckle. Her chestnut-brown curls were swept back into a French twist and curled at the back of her head while resting gently at the base of her neck. She brushed some stray curls out of her eyes as she replied in light tease.

"Oh Aunt Marian, you're too sweet. But you should not sell yourself so short!"

Aunt Marian, who descended the last of the stairs shakily in her age and plumpness of form, merely swatted away Mary's hands as response to the maid's helping hand. She would've smiled and continued the banter until there was nothing left to banter about but she caught Graydon's frowning gaze and forgot the matter completely. An utterly unimpressed scowl spread across her face as she made her way across the hall towards her eldest nephew.

"Graydon Owen D'Ancanto, do not give me _that_ look. Ah am perfectly aware of the time and _your_ disapproval of late arrivals. But ah honestly do not comprehend why y' wish not t' excuse us for being a few minutes late. It's quite acceptable to be fashionably late. I am not so old as to know that is a key trend in society these days."

In spite of the scowl across his face, Graydon still managed to blush at his Aunt's chastising He knew, like all who had the fortune to know the _infamous_ Lady Marian Marquis that whatever she condemned _'acceptable'_ should not be disagreed with. Besides, in her age and state of mind as a born and bread _Old Southern Belle_, there wasn't another force to be reckoned with in the state of Louisiana. If she wanted to be fashionably late then all that could be done would be to just _go with it._ Luckily, the subject was quickly forgotten. Graydon would not have to endure _'never hearing the end of it' _from his Aunt for the rest of the night. Aunt Marian had raised a bemused brow and turned her head towards the stairway as she exclaimed.

"Where _is_ Anna-Marie? I thought she was behind us?"

The elderly woman turned her gaze about her young charges and when Anna-Marie did not make herself present out of thin air, she turned to her maid and ordered her to fetch her. Mary began to ascend the stairs again as quick as a rabbit, while Graydon heaved another sigh of irritation at yet _another _hold up.

"Is there _anything else _to delay us further?"

Though he had muttered it softly under his breath, Aunt Marian caught each word and sent a stern look towards the eldest of her sister's sons. Her mixture of Southern and Cajun tongues grew thick with chastising.

"Really, Graydon, have _some_ form of understanding. _You _and your brother do not have to put much effort for such occasions as these. Do y' not want your sister to look _radiant_? How else is she to encourage a beau to dance?"

While Graydon continued to scowl and muttered not so quietly that he would rather his sister didn't catch _any beaus, period, _his brother Olivier attempted to diffuse _that argument _before it could start. Clapping his brother by the shoulder, he laughed jovially with a jester's smile spread across his face.

"Don't be so cranky, _Gray_. This is supposed to be a night of celebration! Why not let yourself _relax_ a little, _huh?_ Some wine, dancing and _belle femmes_ await us!"

While Aunt Marian and Graydon rolled their eyes, Miss Spencer uttered a small chuckle as Ollie dramatically began to dance with an invisible partner around the grand foyer all the while humming loudly to a quick-paced waltz. He stopped only when Aunt Marian insisted that he was making _her _dizzy. When the commotion stopped, Keira approached Graydon with a teasing smile.

"Oh really Graydon, you _should_ relax. You don't have to be the _matron of responsibility _all the time you know. No one would think badly of you if you decided to take a break _this once._"

Though it was hard to tell, what with the leather black mask hiding most of his face, Keira was sure that he was actually blushing a little. He retorted quickly, his tone straining to remain composed as he willed himself to calm.

"Cousin Keira,_ someone_ has to take responsibility for ya'll. What with mah parents back in Mississippi and Ollie preying upon nearly every young lady between fifteen an' twenty, who _else_ is gonna look out for _you_ and mah sister?"

Keira actually blushed a little at his words but brushed off the surge of appreciation she felt with a small laugh. Though it wasn't as noticeable now, what with the white leather mask that hid half her face and framed her eyes, her eyes sparkled a little at the compliment.

"As much as I appreciate your concern _Mister D'Ancanto._ I know perfectly well that if you had your way, I have no doubt that you would beat every gentleman that set eyes on you _baby sister_ away with a stick-"

Keira barely managed to finish her sentence as Ollie let out a high whistle of appreciation and literally pranced towards the stairway. He ignored Aunt Marian's scolding for the inappropriate amount of _prancing like a deer_. He grinned from ear to ear and watched the figure at the top of the stairs.

"Well would ya'll look at that! Look who cleans up pretty damn well for a little Rogue!"

Aunt Marian gave him a look most murderous. She _highly_ disapproved of the misuse that oddity of a nickname instead of her niece's _real_ name.

"_Really Ollie,_ do not encourage the use of that _uncivilized nickname. _Address Anna-Marie by her _name_. I'll have none of this _Rogue _business you've grown so attached to."

While Ollie shrugged at his Aunt's scolding, his sister he had endeared as _the little Rogue_ descended the stairwell at a careful quick pace. She was still fixing her mask into place as she spoke.

"Ah'm sorry Ah'm so late Aunt Marian. Ororo was having some difficulty with mah mask. Mah hair kept getting caught in the ribbons."

Clad in a midnight-blue gown, the fair-skinned Anna-Marie D'Ancanto gave a mild, apologetic smile towards her aunt. At her family's bombardment of staring, she pulled self-consciously at the edge of one of her long opera gloves. Did she look as ridiculous as she felt?

"Is there something on mah face?"

While Ollie and Keira chuckled and the spell of staring seemed to break, Aunt Marian simply smiled proudly and insisted she looked as radiant as she should. Relieved, _Rogue _reached the last step of the stairs only for Ollie dramatically bowed and offered her his arm, causing her to chuckle amusedly and their Aunt to scowl.

"Really Ollie, can you not be _serious_ for one moment? Lordy, sometimes ah wish y' and your brother would exchange traits. Would give meh some much needed peace of mind!"

While Graydon blanched at his aunt's words, the youngest of the siblings and Miss Spencer tried to smother their amused snorts and chuckles as Aunt Marian began to lead their troop out of the grand town house.On the way out, she glanced at the grandfather clock near the door and exclaimed.

"Graydon, y' should keep better watch of the time! We shall not be fashionably late at all now!"

_**Hope you all agree with the changes! REVIEW!**_

_**-Gams**_


	2. A Trade of Identities

_**Chapter 2 – A Trade of Identities**_

Not half an hour later the carriage passed through the black iron gates of the LeBeau mansion before coming to a complete stop at the entrance stairway. Thankfully, to Graydon's relief more than any other's, there were still at least two-dozen carriages still arriving and more than enough by-standing arrivals in the entrance hall. The doors were pushed open by a pair of masked servants, who stood clad in maroon and black velvet. As soon as these doors were pushed aside, the five found themselves amongst a multicoloured sea of people, clad in the many different colours and masks. Some sprouted feathers from their masks, others, streamed beads on string and delicate ribbons. Marie had to stifle a snigger as she glanced at a man dressed in an almost blinding, vulgar lime green coat and mask that was shaped like jester's hat with bells and all! She and Keira had to quickly walk past the flamboyant guest without bursting with laughter. However they both fell silent when they passed into the entrance hall.

Like so many that had already wandered through the doors, Rogue's mouth parted in a gentle gasp of astonishment. The entrance hall was large and rounded, like a cylinder, and instead of the usual homes of New Orleans, seemed based upon a Greek model. The limestone walls were framed by pillars of limestone and lined with drapes of red and black velvet while the walls themselves were painted in a honey- yellow that Rogue mistook for gold. Above head, the arched ceiling was painted a midnight blue, dotted with stars that, from the sparkle of each one, Rogue was certain were engraved with _real _jewels. A grand chandelier hung over them, setting the grand room in a warm glow. Rogue nearly tripped in her attempt to go down the stairs, her attentions too focused on the striking surroundings. Keira however, was not so star-struck and steadied her before she could trip on her skirts or worse. Rogue gave her friend an appreciative smile and they followed the line of guests down one of the imperial-style stairwells that parted at the lined the walls and met at the centre of the grand entrance hall.

Rogue had become separated from her party and wandered down the stairs at her own pace, taking in her surroundings. She had only heard rumours of the LeBeau town manor's unusual splendour. Aside from being the most _expensive_ strike of unusual in architectural design that the current Lord LeBeau's grandfather had built to favour his Greek wife's tastes, it was grandest in the quarter. The guests were being lead through the main entrance and down the pair of conjoining imperial stairs and through a pair of heavy oak doors, down a long corridor and into another architectural spectacle that was the ballroom. Velvet decorations in black and blood-red embellished every room, the corridors were lit in gentle candle light with a footman at every door between the entrance hall and the ballroom. It was a lavish testament of the family's wealth and power. Rogue felt herself walking into a castle and not a mansion at all.

"Rogue? Darlin' do ya want me to take your coat?"

Rogue turned, stunned slightly by the suddenness of her brother's voice. She nodded and handed him her coat. Her eyes however, remained stargazing. The LeBeau family crest was artfully placed about the manor, on ceramic pots and carved into the marble floors, stitched into the multiple hung tapestries of velvet and silk. The 'L' for LeBeau was delicately encompassed in black thorned vines and an unusual white lily. The crest was also set into the ceiling, painted in a shade of blue just a few tones darker than the night sky so that it neither stood out too much or too little.

"Beautiful…" Rogue murmured more to herself than to anyone else. Olivier handed the footman their coats, giving the architectural magnificence around them not much interest. He chortled at his sister though, and when she didn't react to his obvious amusement, he did the only thing he thought necessary. He reached out and waved his hand over her eyes dramatically.

"_Hello_…? Anna-Marie Louise D'Ancanto, are ya still with the living?"

She broke from her trance abruptly. The surprise across her face quickly turned to an irritated scowl as she pushed past her brother unceremoniously. He smiled impishly, amused by her reaction.

"Just didn't want to leave ya staring at the ceiling all night. Who knows, ya might get stuck staring like that and ya'll would beh a new _ornament _for the LeBeau's home."

"Who was staring at the ceiling Olivier?"

Aunt Marian was suddenly between them, with Graydon and Keira not two paces away from her. She turned from one to the other with inquisitive eyes before turning her head to the ceiling as well. She stared a good two seconds more than Olivier did before giving a discerning _'hmm' _and turning back to her niece and nephew.

"Yes, that would be the works of old Lord _Mathias_ LeBeau, God rest his soul. He took a wife from _Athens_ Ah believe and wanted t' appease her homesick tendencies…"

She began to tattle pleasantly as Graydon wordlessly took his Aunt's arm, sharing a knowing smile with Keira as she took his other arm with a small giggle. Olivier took Rogue's arm, both grinning ear to ear as they watched Aunt Marian tattle endlessly about how _unorthodox_ the LeBeau clan were. "_Unorthodox but respected," _she called it. They followed the crowd down the wide corridor that became dimmer as the amount of candles lessened. There was a murmur of curiosity and confusion as this occurred but soon enough, these murmurs turned to exclaims of delight and awe. It was only when the D'Ancanto clan came to the end of the corridor did they understand what all the commotion was about.

Rogue felt a gasp escape her lips as her gaze swept over the room that, she decided, was grander than the previous room. A ballroom stretched before them, rounded like the previous room but grander in comparison. The room was set in a dimmed, warm glow while a white-marble floor stretched across its length. Similar decorations from the entrance covered the banisters and hung from the walls while already couples danced to the melodies of a large ensemble. Across the entire ballroom, people laughed around dozens of large tables while others stood around the edges of the dance floor to chatter and gossip accordingly. However, what truly inspired awe was the glass chandelier that hung form the ceiling. It was dimly lit but even so, it sparked much attention from the onlookers below. The crystals were tainted red, causing a rich glow of red about the room.

Rogue had never seen such a place and would never, most likely, be able make comparison to anything she _would_ see in time. The seventeen year-old had, until recent months, been in the care of her parents back in their plantation in Mississippi. She was used to small parties at the county hall or picnics in the field where nearly thirty or forty odd families of good society gathered together. _Here_, she felt like she had stepped out of the reality she knew and walked into the twilight of dreams. She tried not to look so taken aback by the splendour as Olivier led her into the ballroom.

As soon they entered the room, Olivier disappeared into the midst of the celebrations with a final _"See ya'll later!"_ while Aunt Marian insisted upon finding a table for her setup her post. Graydon herded the remaining of his clan towards a vacant table. Once seated,Keira took Rogue by the hand and squeezed it, excitement practically bubbling in her voice as she spoke.

"They must have invited half of New Orleans tonight! I've never seen so many people at once, I'm sure!"

Marie grinned. Her heart beat with the same intensity of excitement as her friend's. After weeks of staying at Aunt Marian's being practically locked away in her room not a minute before nine each night, she was determined not to sleep until sunrise. Excitement intoxicated the air and the two young women were already well under its influence. They took in the atmosphere with growing interest and wonder. The many guests were unrecognisable in their embellished and fanciful ensembles and therefore there were no real pretences or social hierarchies to be recognized. Who could tell who was from _New Money_ and who was from _Old Arcadian Roots?_ It was a game of masquerade on such a grand scale.

"Oh there's a buffet! Come, let's get some champagne. Weneed to toast to a wonderful night!"

Rogue grinned and allowed Keira to lead her away only to for them to stop mid-step when Graydon crossed their path, a determined scowl spread across his face. Thought he was half-hidden in shadows and his high-forehead mask hid away most of his expression, Rogue knew that look only too well. His southern drawl became mixed with chastisement as his finger pointed accusingly at the two.

"_You _two will be doing nothing of the sort! Ah can't keep track of ya'll if ya head off on your own. _Ah_ will get the drinks. _You _will stay with Aunt Marian. _Now stay put."_

Rogue heaved an irritated sigh as her eldest brother disappeared into the crowd, her glare burning after him. Knowing him, he would likely shadow her like her very own poltergeist for the rest of the night. He would scare off anyone who was not, in his eyes, deemed fit for his _baby sister-_

"_Excuse moi mademoiselle._ Would y' honour _moi_ with the next dance_?" _

Rogue startled slightly but was quick to compose herself. A young gentleman garbed in silver and black had appeared before her. He held out his hand graciously, a charming smile spread across his lips as he awaited her answer. What timing!

Rogue smiled gently and was about to accept but stopped when she felt a familiar presence appear at her side. It was no surprise to have Graydon appear, as ever, _on guard _at her side. Like clockwork, Graydon told the young Gentleman that his sister had no plans to dance this evening and sent him on his way. Rogue didn't know what was worse, being so overly _protected _or so overly _embarrassed_ by her brother. The young gentleman though a little disappointed, was courteous enough to bow and wished her a pleasant evening before disappearing. Rogue waited until the gentleman was gone before turning on her brother. To no surprise, he was actually proud of his efforts.

"There now! Ya'll don't need to worry about him coming around here again, Marie-"

Rogue folded her arms, her anger bubbling beneath the surface of her scowl. Graydon, though lovable and caring as he was as a brother, he was notorious for seeing to it that she was left well alone by any and _every_ man that so much as paid her a _hint_ of interest. It had been this way since she was fifteen years old. Balls, parties, picnics, He was her shadow and self-employed guard. And now with their parents absent, he was worse than ever. A most un-lady-like growl escaped her lips causing Graydon to give her a bemused look.

"Really Marie, no need to get _dramatic_. Ah was only-"

"Oh stop it Gray! That was _embarrassing! _He only wanted a dance! What harm is there in that?"

Graydon met her glare with equal stubbornness as he retorted.

"_Anna-Marie._ _Papa_ instructed meh to keep an eye on ya. He also told _you _to obey me as ya would him. Ya are too young for beaus and ah don't want ya being taken advantage of and this _masquerade_ ball is just the place for that kind of thing to happen!"

While her father's last words to be obedient to Graydon did make her hesitate a moment, the moment passed and she was as determined as before. Her voice was raised high but the ambience of the festivities prevented her making a real scene.

"Well Papa _told meh _to not let _you_ get too ahead of yourself!_ Ah'm_ _seventeen years old _Gray and it's high time ya stopped treating meh like a baby that needs protecting!"

For a moment, Graydon looked quite taken aback by her outburst but was quick to match her scowl. He even ignored Aunt Marian as she tried to intercept the argument. There was a tone of justification in his voice as he replied shortly.

"Ah'm only doing what any brother _should_ do. Ya know _nothing _about the ways of the world Marie."

A sarcastic laugh escaped Marie's lips before she retorted angrily.

"Oh really? And whose fault is that?"

Graydon rolled his eyes.

"Marie, ya don't know what _men_ are _like_. Ah don't want t' see ya get ya heart broken. Don't you see that I'm trying to do right by ya?"

When Aunt Marian had asked her to come stay with her in New Orleans for the season, Rogue had jumped at the opportunity. Country life in the South rarely changed but New Orleans seemed always to burn through trends and changes and buzz with adventure. Her elation at being _on her own _in New Orleans had been great until Graydon insisted upon coming as a chaperone. As a consolation, Aunt Marian extended the invitation to Olivier and their distant cousin Keira Spencer. At least with them around things would be a little more bearable. At this moment, that bearably had frayed to its last thread. Marie huffed with annoyance and stood abruptly. Her chest heaved heavily with her anger as she reprimanded her brother.

"_Fine!_ If you won't see sense, then there's no sense in meh being here! Ah'm leaving!"

She heard Graydon and the rest of her family's attempts to call her back but with her heart pounding in her ears, she neither cared nor noticed much else. She weaved in between the crowds of people, ignoring all the delights she _might_ have enjoyed if she had decided to stay. Bitter disappointment was quick to find her after that realisation. She had to remind herself that if she did stay, Graydon was only going to guard her like a crazed mother hen and ruin any pleasure she might take in the festivities. She was picking the better of two evils, she told herself. However the disappointment still held her in its grip. So distracted with such feelings, Rogue bumped into an elder-looking gentleman dressed like some kind of Robin Hood character in the corridor. She apologised quickly and ignored the look of concern he sent her, and merely hurried past to escape the ballroom's reach and into the entrance hall. Once clear of the ballroom, her heart fell a little lower as she came to a stop. She folded her arms and sighed disappointedly.

"A perfectly wonderful night ruined…"

"Rogue!"

Before she could begin to drag herself up the stairwell, the familiar call of her nickname stopped her in her tracks. She turned to see Keira hurrying towards her. Rogue felt her heart swell with appreciation and fall with disheartenment. Had Graydon sent Keira to retrieve her? She had behaved quite awfully in front of Aunt Marian. Perhaps Aunt Marian had sent her? Before she could begin to question her however, Keira took her by the hand and led her to a small corridor alcove beneath the mezzanine. It was then that Keira began to speak, her harsh whispers echoing in the open space.

"Where do you think you are going? You were not actually _thinking_ of _leaving?_ The night has _barely_ begun!"

Rogue heaved a resigned sigh and nodded. Keira made a disbelieving scoff, but her eyes were kindled with sympathy. She tried to soften the situation.

"Rogue, I know Graydon can be an overbearing older brother, but he means well-"

Rogue gave her an incredulous look.

"Did you _see _what happened in there? _How_ am ah gonna have any fun tonight if he's there snarlin' at any man that comes near his _baby sister!_ Ah can't stay if _that _is what ah'm in for the rest of the night."

Rogue heaved a heavy breath. Years of barely contained frustration towards her brother weighed heavily on each breath. She pushed one of her unusual white curls out of her flushed face. However she stopped when she noticed Keira was silent. She found that her friend's gaze was drawn elsewhere…to a mirror of all things. Rogue gave a bemused frown.

"Keira? Why are you-"

For a good minute or so, Keira's gaze had found its way to a framed mirror hanging on the wall opposite them. A wide smile spread across her features. Before Rogue could ask what she was smiling about, Keira reached out and suddenly grasped her by the shoulders and turned her around to face the mirror. A bewildered Rogue demanded to know what had suddenly gotten into her cousin. Keira's voice held an almost giddy tone as she replied hurriedly.

"Just _trust me _and listen, dear cousin! If Graydon wasn't keeping an eye on you all the time, you would stay, yes?"

Rogue nodded and made to question further when Keira began fiddling with the ribbons holding her mask in place. Rogue grasped her friend's gloved hands with her own as she exclaimed.

"Keira what are _you_ up to?"

Keira merely swatted Rogue's hand away as she continued to untie the ribbons. There was an impish tone to her voice as she continued to untie ribbons.

"Just trust me Rogue. I have an idea."

The black leather mask slipped off Rogue's face before she could retort. Keira carefully straightened the mask's many embellishments. Ribbons streamed from each corner while several dainty diamonds were crafted around the eyes of the mask. The colourful tips of peacock feathers had been sewn on to the sides and fanned out, hiding most of Rogue's unusual coloured streaks.

"Keira what are you thinking?"

Keira didn't reply her cousin's question, instead she told Marie to help her take off her own mask. When they both stood with masks in hand, Rogue turned to her cousin. She hadn't quite got what Keira was attempting yet. A mixture of excitement and mischief danced in Keira's expression as she held up their masks for comparison.

"_See? _Our masks are practically identical except that mine is white and yours is black. And the peacock feathers hide your white locks! The ballroom is so dimly lit we can barely make out what mask is on what face. If you and I were to switch masks for the night, it would confuse Graydon and keep him distracted! In fact he may not notice at all! If we keep moving about, you could stay and no one would know the difference!"

Rogue was left speechless for a good ten seconds before she was helping Keira put on her mask. It also made no difference that Rogue's gown was midnight blue and Keira's a dark emerald colour. With the lighting or lack there of, there was barely much difference between them. Upon inspection of the mirror, they looked quite similar indeed. The plan was ingenious!

"Keira darlin', ah don't know what ah'd do without ya here."

However the two women finished re-applying their swapped masks, they did not take notice of the pair of unusual coloured eyes that followed them from the shadows of the mezzanine level above the stairs. An amused grin spread across the figure's face as he slipped out of the shadows, straightened his coat and moved towards the grand ballroom.

_**Review Please!**_


	3. The Reluctant Prince

_**Chapter 3 – The Reluctant Prince**_

The echoes of chatter, laughter and the playing of the orchestra mixed together like a ghostly melody as it drifted through the house. An irritated sigh escaped the young man's lips as he moved away from the mirror at last and from the valet's fussing hands. With the valet out of the room, he began to wander about his room with a growing sense of reluctant resignation.

Upon his arrival home from Paris that very morning, Remy LeBeau knew that some kind of grand ploy had noosed itself around his neck. He wouldn't have returned home so eagerly as he had if he had known his father was up to new schemes. Nameless as they were at the moment, he knew for certain that this masquerade ball was just, well, a _mask_ that hid away the true scheme. If he had known, he would've detoured from this homecoming and taken up his favourite table at a Gentleman's club in the deepest part of the French Quarter and stayed there until the coast was clear. He would smoke to his heart's content, enjoy pleasurable company, play his hand at cards and grin from ear to ear as he took his winnings. _That_ would have been his idea of a birthday celebration. Not _this sham_ of a celebration his father had put together and roped him into before he could turn the other way.

With an aggravated sigh, Remy stopped his pacing and turned to the closed French doors that led to a small balcony. He pushed them open as he stepped onto the balcony and inhaled the humid summer air. The sun had departed the sky some half our ago but even so, there was light in his view. The lights of the city were all ablaze and they beckoned to him like a siren call, speaking of places he'd rather be. He assumed when he had returned that morning that he would be out and about the town by noon and dragging himself home by morning next. He was, at this point, caged in with a crowd of strangers to celebrate the coming of a new birthday. The idea made him scoff. The fact it was his birthday was merely a deceptive excuse for who know s what. If he knew his father, there was an ace tucked up his sleave that would be revealed in due time.

The sound of footfall coming closer alerted him to the arrival of his jail master. Soon enough there came a brief nock at the door but the figure didn't wait for him to _formally_ allow him to enter. The door swung open and in stepped his jailer- _father_. With his auburn hair streaked with age and more lines across his brow, he was every bit the part of an aged gentleman. He heaved a heavy sigh as he approached his youngest son on the balcony and came to stand beside him. Warning laced his tone of voice when he broke the silence.

"I hope y' will not think t' run out on us _mon fils_."

Remy uttered a short chortle. He replied dryly with feigned enthusiasm.

"And waste some perfectly _bien _company _et_ fine wine_?_ _Non_. Remy would not miss dat for de world!"

Jean-Luc LeBeau let out a sigh that wavered between disappointment and irritation. Though he knew his son to be beyond the age where his scolding could take little effect, he knew him to be too honourable despite his _rebellious tendencies _and would not _dare _refuse on grounds of honour. He needed but a little persuasion.

"Dere are too many people down dere expecting de guest o' honour to show his face-"

"Dey only here f' de spoils o' de party, _Pére_. Dey might not even care that the _guest o' honour _fails to appear."

His old man was quick to counter that point in equal dryness of tone.

"Y' would break ol' Tante Mattie's heart if y' put all her work to waste. She would be greatly upset if y' didn't come down to commend her on all her efforts."

Though there was a moment of silent pause for thought, a cued sigh of defeat escaped Remy's lips as he stepped away from the balcony and back into the confines of his room. He ran a hand down his face in quiet exasperation but when his hand fell to his side, his usual charm had cultivated in a handsome smile across his face. Effortlessly it seemed he had transformed into a Prince at last.

"Y' a dirty ol' man _mon Pére_. Resortin' to _guilt_ to have y' son attend a party?"

Jean-Luc returned his son's smirk with equal charm as he came to lean against the balcony doorframe. After all, he could play this game as well. He clapped his son on the back as he headed towards the door.

"Whatever it takes to get y' into dat room _mon fils_. Whatever it takes."

Remy's only reply was to give a low chortle and with a last look towards the balcony, turn against his instincts and follow his father an honour clad resignation.

On the way out, he picked up the last effects of his costume. It was a well-crafted plan indeed to put a masquerade into the mix. While he wasn't entirely sure of the purpose of this charade _Birthday Celebration_ the masks alone were well crafted for such a scheme. His costume was rather obvious what with the gilded handled cutlass belted to his waist and a short cape draped around his shoulders. His mask was made of black velvet, a deep crimson coloured thread was stitched like curled vines that masked most of his face and encircled his unusual coloured eyes. He would have no need for dark tinted glasses to hide his unusual eyes. The mask matched his costume attire perfectly. He was certain his old Tante Mattie had been the one to dress him in the role of a prince but the dear old woman had been wise to match the colours to his taste with the crimson and black colour scheme. Remy couldn't bring himself to not admire his Tante's efforts. However he was not completely won over by honour and his empathy towards his Aunt's feelings. He wished to have one last word with his father before they were forced to put all matters quite literally behind their masks.

"Would y' tell Remy what de _real _reason behind all dis?"

Jean-Luc did pause a moment in his steps but was quick to continue down the corridor with a dismissive '_Later mon fils. Later,' _and wave of his hand.

Remy was not so easily dismissed on the matter. He caught up with his father and mirrored his father's brisk stride as he persisted.

"_Pére_. Y' et I both know turning twenty-six is no mile stone in a h_omme's_ life."

When Remy endured to look insistent for an answer, his father finally stopped and turned towards him with a sombre look. When he spoke, there was utter sincerity that only a father, a _hopeful_ father, could utter. Remy was mildly surprised by the sincerity in spite of all the charades.

"Remy…"

His father began in usual fashion when he had something quite _meaningful_ to say to him.

"Y' need t' start putting y' feet on de ground instead o' flying off wit' dem wings o' yours."

Remy raised his brow with a blasé expression. His father continued.

"_Quoi?" _(What?)

Remy was surprised when his father rested a firm hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look directly into his almost beseeching eyes.

"It's high time y' found a wife _mon fils._ Start a _life!_ Y' can only go off gallivanting around de world_ et_ breakin' hearts left, right _et_ centre for so long _et_ believe me, dere is not'ing worse dan de life of an _old bachelor_…"

Remy had had the sudden inclination that this birthday celebration would be the making of his pending_ doom._ His father's little speech was not without warning either. He had heard much of the same speech on numerous occasions and not only from his father. His brother, now ten years married, often poked and prodded at him to settle. He insisted that married life had its perks and all was not just ball and chain as he thought. They all encouraged him to settle down. To find a wife, build his life around her and give his old man some grandchildren before his deathbed approached. The whole life-plan, it seemed, was set in motion for him to take. Of course, when this goal had first been set, he was _eighteen._ Foolish, _selfish_, eager to seek the pleasures and adventures the world had to offer. He had brushed off their encouragements and turned to more _present_ interests. Tonight however, while the speech was none too different from the thousand times he had heard it before, something told him it was the making of a new part of his life. The set goal was put at a closer stake. After Jean-Luc's speech, Remy found himself in wordless state. Though he would not admit it now (nor ever if he could help it) the look of desperation and _hope_ that shone through his father's eyes at the thought of him marrying and _settling down _left him guilt trodden and stilled. He took his time and exhaled a silent breath of air before he gave his response.

"So, dis celebration? Is what? _A wife hunt_?"

Jean-Luc shrugged as he led his son further down the hall. Their footsteps muffled by the endless carpet trail.

"Not entirely. _Mais_ it be a good place t' start _non_? I don't expect y' to find a wife by de end o' de night Remy. _Mais_ I _do_ want y' t' see dis as a starting point. Who knows, _hah_? Stranger t'ings 'ave happened. Y' may find your future wife dis very night!"

Remy nodded but remained mute of reply. If he spoke, he was sure he would begin a rant of reasons why the idea of him even _trying _to look for a possible future wife was completely ludicrous. However, after a minute of silence, he couldn't contain his disagreement to the idea. They were ascending the final corridor before the grand entrance hall when he spoke.

"_Pére_, a man can't fall in love in one night. _Il est impossible…"_

The elder man gave a loud scoff as an amused grin spread across his face.

"_Impossible?_ _Remy_, y' are de man dat whispers love into each and every _femme's_ ears! I t'ink y' more den capable. All y' need is conviction. _Mais _I will warn y' dat I _will_ hold y' to de task of finding a wife_._"

Remy frowned lightly at his father with growing suspicion.

"_Pére… _what exactly do y' mean by dat?"

As expected his father broke the chain of conversation where it lay. Instead he clasped his son on the shoulder as they turned onto the balcony that attached the family rooms to the entrance stairwell.

"Il n'est pas question pour l'instant _mon fils_.** (1)** Just _try_ to find someone worth pursuing for hope of the future. I am _sure_ y' can handle de challenge."

Remy had the feeling his father placed too many hopes on his shoulders but said nothing else on the matter for he knew his father would now avoid any further attempts to speak of it again this night. So he turned his attention to other details his father had not explained.

"_Pére, _what _has_ Tante Mattie turned y' into for dis masquerade?"

His father, who always seemed to be a paragon of dry wit, charm and _reservedness_, beamed with pride as he stopped and gave a dramatic bow before placing a tell-tale hat upon his head.

"Really Remy, do y' not recognise the man you so idolized as a child? I am _Robin Hood! _I steal from de rich and give to the poor!"

Remy could not help but burst with laughter as the realisation hit him with newfound clarity. Although portrayed as a well-weathered looking _Robin Hood_ of sorts, with his forest green and black attire and cloak, Jean-Luc _was _indeed Robin Hood. He wore a mask of black velvet with a similar threaded design to Remy's but the _Robin Hood _style hat hid the majority of his identity. The pinnacle of the costume however was the tell-tale red feather that poked out from the side of the velvet green hat. Remy was dearly tempted to tease his father for it after this night.

Jean-Luc was quick to straighten himself once they reached the main entrance hall stairwell. There he cleared his throat and straightened his coat once more before meaning to turn down the stairs. He turned towards his son to speak only to stop what he had been about to say and exclaim with a flush of melodrama.

"Don't forget to put on your mask or y' will spoil de games afoot!"

Remy had almost forgot the mask was still in his hand and quickly slipped it on. The leather ties had been measured and tied earlier so that he could slip it on and off with quick ease. When his father was satisfied, he gave a proud nod of approval and smiled.

"_There._ _Now_ y' are a Prince. I t'ink Tante Mattie chose your costume well."

Remy smirked. With a dramatic flare, he brushed aside his short-tailed cloak and brandished the embellished sword strapped about his waist in a Princely, heroic pose. His father rolled his eyes but there was a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth that told he was a little amused.

"Be careful _mon fils_. Y' might turn into a frog wit' y' head so swelled wit' vanity."

Remy only smirked harder at the dry remark.

"Dat might help wit' finding a wife _non_? Kiss a frog, find a husband!"

Jean-Luc sighed in mild exasperation as he turned to head down the stairs. He called back over his shoulder wittily.

"_Oui!_ Y' may find a Princess dat will take pity on y' _et _marry y' for y' heart _et_ not your title. Warts and all."

Remy sheathed his sword as he chuckled at his father's romantic streak.

"Remy did not know _Sir Robin of Locksley _to be a romantic at heart?"

Jean-Luc merely waved as his reply echoed about the empty entrance hall.

"I am no more a romantic den de Prince of N' Orleans!"

And with a last wave, he left Remy to his own devices on the stairwell. When the _Thief of Sherwood Forest _was completely out of sight and hearing, Remy heaved a sigh of relief. While he prepared himself for the onslaught that was to come once he stepped into the next room, he hatched another plan of action. He gave his family some credit for making this a masquerade ball. No one could truly recognise him in costume and therefore it would be only too easy for him to slip out after making at least an initial appearance. He would be celebrating his birthday as he had intended before midnight and back before his father even noticed his absence.

"_Désolé __mon Pére. Mais finding a wife will 'ave to be for another time."  
_

A trademark charming smirk spread across his lips and seemed to fuse with the mask strapped to his head. He felt confidence overwhelm his stride as he made to descend the stairs but he barely made the first step down when a figure appeared from the main corridor. Frantic, angry steps echoed through the entrance hall as the figure marched through from the corridor leading to the ballroom. Remy had just enough warning to step back into the shadows of the mezzanine behind a pillar before the young lady could spot him. Curiosity caused him to stay silent and still as the obviously upset young lady began to walk at a slower pace. She crossed her glove-clad arms across her chest, her head drawn down in disappointment as her midnight-blue gown rustled gently against the floor. He strained to hear her speak as she muttered to herself.

"A perfectly wonderful night ruined…"

Remy's brow furrowed with concern. Though he couldn't make out her face what with her mask and the distance, he was certain she was close to tears.

"Rogue!"

Remy watched another young lady approach in a green gown. The girl- _woman,_ in the blue gown turned with a start of surprise as the other approached.

"Where do you think you are going? You were not actually _thinking_ of _leaving?_ The night has _barely_ begun!"

There was a shake of the first woman's head and a disbelieving scoff from the other before the pair shifted out of his sight under the mezzanine. The open space of the hall still allowed their voices to reach his ears. Carefully, he made his way down the stairs and kept to the shadows. His footsteps were muffled by the carpet on the stairwell and along with the dimness of the hall lights, he was able to hide easily as he listened.

"Rogue, I know Graydon can be an overbearing older brother, but he means well-"

There was an exasperated noise before the _Rogue_ spoke up. A small smirk tugged at his lips when he realised the undeniable _Mississippi drawl_ in her voice. The voice alone was enough incentive to risk slipping down the stairs a little further to catch a glimpse of the voice's owner. The unusual name played silently on his lips.

"Did you _see _what happened in there? _How_ am ah gonna have any fun tonight if he's there snarlin' at any man that comes near his _baby sister!_ Ah can't stay if _that _is what ah'm in for the rest of the night."

The two women had stepped into the small corridor alcove and stood with one with the girl- woman, he corrected, in blue standing closer to the half-lit candelabra. Though he couldn't distinguish faces, he could distinguish the difference between the two women and which one held his interest so intently. He watched as a silent moment passed between the two until the woman in green grasped the other by the shoulders and had her turn towards a mirror on the opposite wall. Rogue cried out in surprise at her friend.

"Keira? Why are you-"

"Just _trust me _and listen cousin! If Graydon wasn't keeping an eye on you all the time, you would stay, yes?"

Rogue nodded, her bemusement mirroring Remy's as they both awaited to hear what _Cousin Keira _was up to. Keira stepped behind her cousin and began to undo the ribbons to her mask only for Rogue to grasp her by the hands before she could finish.

"Keira what are _you_ up to?"

"Just trust me Rogue. I have an idea."

After swatting away Rogue's hands, Keira finished untying the ribbons and

was fixing something from her hair. A moment later, a mask came free from the first woman and she turned abruptly. Remy felt himself freeze in that one fatal moment. He had seen and wooed many beautiful women in the past but all those pretty faces seemed to fall into darkness the moment his gaze fell on _this_ woman. What had captured his attention first was the pair of unique coloured curls that framed her heart-shaped face. Each was a shock white colour but even against the dark curls of the rest of her hair, seemed entirely natural. With her mask gone, he was able to catch a glimpse of her pale face but what really drew his attention was the pair of emeralds she must call eyes. They were startlingly bright and full of life, entrancing him like rare hypnotic jewels. However, when her full pink lips opened and her voice slipped out, he was struck completely. She _was_ a Southern Belle.

"Keira what are you thinking?"

Her friend let out a sigh but replied quickly as Remy listened continuously.

"_See? _Our masks are practically identical except that mine is white and yours is black. And the peacock feathers hide your white locks! The ballroom is so dimly lit we can barely make out what mask is on what face. If you and I were to switch masks for the night, it would confuse Graydon and keep him distracted! In fact he may not notice at all! If we keep moving about, you could stay and no one would know the difference!"

Within a space of short minutes, the two women exchanged their masks and helped each other re-tie each ribbon. Remy felt a swell of disappointment overwhelm him when the Southern Belle slipped on her now-white mask, hiding away the flawless face he found so intriguing. Without a second thought, he began to examine her features one by one and putting them to memory. He didn't know exactly. Maybe it was the prospect of a new challenge to woo and charm a beautiful woman but he felt drawn to this stranger. Something made him think there was something more behind that pretty face. He smirked wolfishly as this realisation dawned upon him a plan. The possibilities were suddenly looking brighter as he watched Marie and her friend slip past him on their way down the staircase. His red-on-black eyes set a glow as he watched _her_ slip into the crowd.

_**(1) It is not matter for the moment.**_


	4. The Game is on

_**Chapter 4 – The Game is on **_

_Alive _was the only word to describe how Rogue felt. She couldn't have been more thankful for her friend's ingenious plan of switching masks for the night. Graydon, whom Rogue had passed by several times during the night, hadn't even turned his head towards her let alone noticed _whom_ she was. However it was quite obvious how lost the festivities were on him. He proudly prowled the edge of the dance floor, sending his younger brother looks of utter disapproval as he pranced around with a string of lovely ladies through out the course of a mere hour. Marie had smiled to herself when she caught sight of Olivier dancing with a pretty young brunette with a petite frame in a pale pink gown **(1). **She could only imagine the _sweet little things_ her brother would be whispering into her ear as they danced so closely. She pitied the girl a little, knowing she wouldn't be the last girl to hear such things from her charming brother's lips that night. However on the other hand, it was not for her to worry herself over. She had been asked by several gentlemen to dance and had accepted each request with great relish at the thought it would drive her brother cross with disapproval if he knew. She took great satisfaction in proving even just a little that what her brother had protested about men wasn't entirely true about _all_ of them. Most were perfectly charming without any _apparent_ evil traits. Perhaps it was the lack of identity spreading about the room, but it seemed as though every man that crossed her path and joined her in dance wanted to know who _she_ was with such insistence she couldn't fathom. Marie thought it rather amusing in spite of the pangs of nerves she got from such close attentions. But even so, she would recite the common rule that no identity was to be revealed until the stroke of midnight. She had never had much talent for mystery until now and the sensation of it was enthralling!

However at half past eight, much to everyone's curiosity, the merriment and celebration came to a complete halt. The music silenced as a figure came to stand in the centre of the ballroom, a spot-like outlining the green trip to his _Robin Hood _attire. The gentleman smiled charmingly before he began to speak to the now-silent crowd around him.

"Distinguished guests, treasured amis _et_ _famille! _I welcome y' to tonight's birthday celebration in honour of _mon fils (my son)_. I hope dat thus far, y' are all enjoying y'selves!"

"T'ought dat no one was supposed t' reveal their identities until midnight_ Monsieur Jean-Luc LeBeau!_"

A young masculine voice had piped up somewhere in the sea of people, causing everyone in the crowd to laugh amusedly. Even Jean-Luc himself smiled with genuine amusement as he replied with a hint of mock-annoyance.

"Well _someone_ must ensure order in dis house _non_?"

There was a general chortle of agreement amongst the listening crowd. When the chatter died down, Jean-Luc spoke up again.

"Now, as tradition goes in LeBeau celebrations, we shall have a round of games involving de art o' dance and good humour!"

As soon as the words had escaped his mouth, an overall chatter of approval and interest erupted throughout the crowd. However with a raise of his hands, Jean-Luc silenced them all once again before continuing to speak. The spell bound crown watched as a dozen male servants appeared from the crowds and began to outline the crowd's edges. Marie realised with as much curiosity as any other in the room, that each servant held a large bouquet of half-bloomed roses. Crimson, white, yellow and pink coloured each bouquet. Jean-Luc continued to speak with an ever-present smile across his lips.

"My servants shall hand out a single rose t' each guest. _Gentlemen_, y' have until de music starts t' find a lady of y' choice with de same colour rose in their possession. When de music begins, y' mus' dance, when de music stops, y' must stop where y' stand_ et_ find a new partner. Do not lose de rose y' have been given or y' will be asked t' forfeit from de dance floor until de next dance. De last couple standing dat 'as proven t' be de best of us, will be crowned de _Belle et Beau of de Ball_! _Maintenant, mes amis. On danse!_" (Now my friends. We dance!)

There was applause from the crowd followed by a buzz of chatter and excitement that over swept the room as the servants began to hand out the half-bloomed roses. Marie smiled at the masked servant as she took the offered white rose. She studied it gingerly for a moment in her gloved hand, using the tip of her index to stroke its outer petals. The stem was thornless while a thin black ribbon was tied in a bow around its neck. Marie smiles softly as she brought it to her nose and inhaled its floral scent. Simultaneously, it was then that she felt the gentle tap of a gloved hand on her shoulder. She turned abruptly only to stare up into the smirking face of a black-masked gentleman. He offered her a hand as he lifted the matching white rose to her sight.

"May I have this dance _Mademoiselle_?"

Marie gave a small nod and curtsy and took the young gentleman's hand as the music began to play at a quick jolly pace. Two rings of couples, one outlining the other, spread across the dance floor in accordance with the song. Couples began to weave in and out while keeping in time with their chosen partners before taking their partner's hand and waltzing on the spot as they continued to weave in and out between the other couples.

Marie laughed and smiled as her feet barely touched the ground, not knowing that a pair of red-on-black eyes watched her from the shadows and smiled. Remy had been just about to introduce himself and offer his own _white rose_ when another gentleman with the same intentions stole the moment. Not at all discouraged by any means, he returned to the shadows and kept close watch. He would seek out another moment he could steal with his _Southern Belle_. Though the lighting made it difficult to see her clearly, his eyes had an unnatural talent of being able to see despite the darkness that clouded other people's vision. He watched from afar as she laughed and smiled, turned and clapped on cue. When the music came to a pause, there was a burst of feminine giggles and the quick shuffling of feet as people scattered to find new partners. Remy found his moment of opportunity. He weaved stealthily and quickly through the crowd until he found himself behind his Southern Belle. Ever so gently, he reached out with the rose in hand and touched the side of her cheek with it. She stopped abruptly and turned as he withdrew the rose. She turned on the spot only to come face-to-face once again with the white rose he held between them. He had the satisfaction of watching as her eyes flickered with surprise to amusement and then curiosity as her gaze shifted from the rose, and finally, to his face. He was sure he heard her gasp slightly but that only broadened his smile. As the music began to play again, he raised his free hand in an offer for the new dance. What else could she do but take his hand? Her satin-clad fingers fit into his hand like, well, a glove. His fingers enveloped hers as he pulled her closer and wrapped his other hand securely around her waist. As the music began to play again, he led them at the quick pace the violin instructed.

Marie didn't know what had come over her. One moment a rose was dangling before her and the next, she was staring in a pair of smouldering rubies in a sea of black satin. She had felt the gasp escape her lips without restraint. What sort of creature or man had such eyes? Though his face was bathed in shadows and flickers of light danced briefly across his face, those eyes remained constantly glowing, constantly watching her. She felt her face burn a little under those eyes. Surly the colour of his eyes was some kind of trick of the light or part of his costume? The majority of his costume was of black and red finery. She dismissed the unusualness as they parted for a moment. He was at least a head and a bit taller than her with the grace and confidence only a gentleman could have… or a very arrogant and well educated man at the least. She felt him pull her closer as the music began again, causing her heart to jump. She put a hand to his shoulder and let him encase her fingers in his hold before they began to follow the song. His hands, she noticed, were gentler than she had expected. Though he held a firm grip, he was gentle and almost careful not to clamp her fingers. He did not speak, only smiled handsomely down at her as he gracefully led her about the dance floor. This, along with the fact that he wouldn't stop looking at her left her a little unnerved…and curious, very curious.

Suddenly the music came to a halt and in response so did the dancers, including Marie and Remy. However, instead of standing side by side with parted hands and turning their attention to Jean-Luc as the others had, they stood in the same embrace. His demonic eyes bore into hers like fire torches in the night while that charming smile broadened across his face. Marie felt her cheeks warm again as she continued to stare back- that is until someone grasped her around the waist and tugged her away.

She hadn't noticed the call for a change of partners until she finally turned and eyed her new dancing partner. However when she turned back to look at her previous partner, she was surprised to find he had disappeared all together amongst the crowd. Marie shook herself mentally and forced herself to shake the pull of disappointment his absence brought. She pushed him to the back of her thoughts as her current dancing partner spun her about the room.

"_Those in possession of a white rose must now dance with one with a red rose! As yellow must pair with pink!" _

The change in the game caused a frenzy of excitement and commotion to overtake the dance floor as ladies and gentlemen hurried to find a partner in time. Some dozen or so were left to retreat from the dance floor, as they had not found a match. Marie was about to stand aside, having not found a partner quick enough, when she felt a familiar warm hand grasp her own and turn her around. To her surprise, those unmistakeable red-on-black eyes stared down on her once more, and in response to her bemused look, the silent _Prince Charming _held up a red rose to match her white one. The music began to play and they moved with it once again. Marie couldn't help the new swell of curiosity within her anymore than she could stop her feet from stepping in time with his. She marked his persistence as surprising and peculiar...and yet, she couldn't bring herself to end the dance or call him out on his odd show of determination. Bold and charming as this silent rake was, her curiosity was heightened. With newfound boldness, she returned the smiled and counted her small victory when her cheeks didn't flush at the action. His grin broadened ever so slightly but before she could even begin to speak, the music came to an abrupt stop and the same announcer called for a new turn of the game; one must find a partner with a pink rose.

Marie gave the silent Prince a raised brow expression.

"Ah don't suppose ya have a pink rose tucked away somewhere too?"

The corner of Marie's lips quirked upwards with amusement as he produced from his coat, a perfect pink rose. The orchestra began to build to a quicker tempo as they turned about the dance floor amongst the dwindling crowd of couples. The pink rose twisted around her white rose as he kept hold of her hand and turned her around on the spot. Marie couldn't help a jovial cry when he suddenly dipped her as soon as the music came to another pause. Grinning from ear-to-ear, the masked Prince kept her dipped towards the floor. Marie grinned back when he tucked a yellow rose behind her ear and brought her to an upright position again as the music returned at a vaster pace. Marie was practically burning to know what motive this strange young gentleman had to play such a game with the likes of her. Was he merely taking advantage of the mysteriousness of the masked ball? She deemed that only a half-truth. This didn't feel like a mere game of masquerades and whatever his intentions, Marie intended to find out. However before she could think of how to approach him on it, the music gave in to a final crescendo and she was turned on the spot only to return to his arms with force as the music came to a timely end. Her hands steadied against his firm chest, her heart hammering against her ribcage as she stared up into those unforgettable eyes. His hands remained locked around her waist, smiling in spite of the shortness of air between them. Marie made to speak but her chance was stolen when a voice spoke. The moment shattered between them in a gust of noise and clapping. They soon realised that they were at the heart of the dance floor and that only three other couples stood close by. However all attentions were directed at _them. _Marie felt herself pull away slowly, unsure if the reason her cheeks burned was because of the dancing or from all the unexpected attention. Finally, the clapping died down and Jean-Luc LeBeau disengaged himself from the crowd to take the floor. He held a hand out to her silent partner and shook it with gusto before turning to her. He grasped her hand and smiled as he came to stand between them. A pleasant chuckle escaped him as he spoke to the admiring crowd.

"I do believe we 'ave a winning couple! _Mesdames et Messieurs! _I present t' y', de _Belle et Beau of de Ball!" _

And with a cry of approval from the crowd, two servants appeared at their sides and before Marie could breathe again, they were crowned with wreaths of painted gold leaves. Jean-Luc congratulated them individually. Marie felt her cheeks burn crimson but said nothing as the Master of the house continued to make announcements. Her gaze slipped towards her still-silent _Beau of the Ball_ only to look past him and to recognise a frightfully familiar face in the crowd. She watched as he slowed in his actions…only to pick up the pace as he circled the fringe of the crowd, edging closer to her. Her heart began to hammer harder against her chest as she snapped back to facing the front, only to feel her brother's decidedly suspicious gaze follow her. Her blood turned to ice as he began to edge towards the front of the crowd. Visions of her overly protective brother dragging her kicking and screaming from the ballroom like a deceitful child flashing across her mind as her heart skipped beats. She new if she didn't move now, her visions would soon become a reality. Tactfully, she began to back away into the crowd behind as Jean-Luc continued to speak about the ever drawing nearness of midnight and the revelation of identities it would bring. Graydon was nearing her still when she became submerged within the crowd. She didn't stop to look back as she weaved between people and tables until she came to a narrow passage between two of the long buffet tables. With the smell of the kitchens wafting from the corridor, she took to the passage with haste. At the end of the passage she could make out the doors that she assumed led to the kitchen but stopped mid-way when a pair of doors seemed to appear from the darkness. Going as far as the kitchens might only cause unwanted attention from the kitchen staff, Marie tested the glass doors.

A relieved sigh escaped her when the brass handle turned freely. She passed through them as quick as possible only to find that they opened to the long balcony terrace surrounding the ballroom. Clusters of artfully placed plants and hedges acted as a shield from the cityscape outside while glass panel doors patterned along the exterior walls of the ballroom. Marie did not stop until she had reached the end of the corridor. Once there, she came to stand with her back against the joining wall. Feeling she had put as much distance between herself and the passageway she came from as possible, Marie leant back against the moss-coated wall with a relieved sigh. Though a little breathless, she felt herself ease into the seclusion of the open balcony and the hope that her brother had lost her amongst the waves of the crowd inside.

A light chortle escaped her as she pushed the wreath crown off her head and wiped the moisture off her dampened forehead. To think she had so haphazardly expected to dance her way through the night without her brother taking notice. Too true her brother was a born bloodhound when it came to his _baby sister _and not even a well-contrived scheme could keep his nose from sniffing her out eventually_. _

Frustration erupted in her erratic heartbeat as she angrily pulled her gloves off her hands. Was she ever to have a moment where she was not monitored or kept shielded from the world outside her family? When her Aunt Marian had asked her to come stay with her for the New Orleans season (her _first _season no less!) she had had such dreams of freedom and excitement and endless parties. Her mother however, knowing of Aunt Marian's rather _odd _temperament, reasoned a deal that ended said dreams. With the excuse that Aunt Marian was an insufficient chaperone for her only daughter, she insisted that Graydon and Ollie go along for the season as well. The only consolations Marie got out of the bargain was that she had Cousin Keira from Atlanta to keep her sane and that her mother hadn't insisted on coming as well. Now however, even the consolations were losing their power on her. Marie closed her eyes a moment as the words rolled off her tongue in frustration.

"Ah swear they will monitor meh into an early grave soon…"

"Dat would be a shame _ma belle_. Y' don't look like one fit for de grave."

Marie froze at the sudden, sultry voice.

_**Don't hate me. We'll be winding back to Remy's perspective next update.**_

_**Review! **_


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